The Sunday herald., 1887-01-02
Tribute TO tho un.aown.
ny ONE or THEN.

ny ONE OF THEM
Very few OF the thousands VINO read the daily
journals know anything OF the men who write the
articles whose reading gives them so much pleasure
They hear now aud then of an editor or reporter
being actually discovered In human shape some.
where. and instances are not unknown where these
editors and reporters were discovered do
way IA ordinary inOrtals. But these Instances are
rather rare and In most cases.noi well authenticated
and 30, Ike spontaneous combustion, the faith cure,
etc., are considered good enough things TO talk
abont, but very poor things to believe.
IL II should occur to The reader OF one OF the nu-
merOus respectable and esteemed "contenpo
TO make Inquiry as to the authorship OF an article,
how would he go about II? Why, as natural thing
he would walk straight To the newspaper onlce and
ask for him. There. would have a right to sup
pose, the writer would take form and substance.
and hold out hand of nesn and blood to his
fellow-mortals. There, dear reader, he could only
rarely he found. True, the editors would be there,
and now and then heated reporter might rush In,
and the men who set the types stand at their cases,
and others tend the giant presses as they turn. hut
the name OF the briters IL legion, and many very
many, are nnknown. The college student sIls far
away sits the professor, burning, perhaps, the mid
night gas; the gentleman OF wealth and leisure In
his wellappolnted home; the young doctor or law
yer whose professional calls are moi yer too numer-
GUS; all these are writing to satisfy the Unsuitable
public appetite for news; and occasionally some
grizzed old boy, Tor amusements sake, recalls the
names ana faces OF the past; last, the Bohemian he
OF the great army OF drifting men OF genius, who
has no ties, who IL often drunk, and always shabby.
All OF these are OF the unknown. but OF them
the bohemian alone Is romantic that Ia, In the eye
OF the public. To many there is something pictur-
esque In the ragged man OF brans and nonsense
who shyers In ar-roons aud walks the streets
1urng the brilliant gem OF thought which shines
and Is sought like the pearl, while ils author, the
oyster, Is cast aside as worthless; but 10 the self
same ragged fellow food IL q grateful Thing aud n
hed-a real, honest. comfortable bod--is luxury.
lie does not see the romance OF hs own situation.
lilo may see romance about some one cses slluil-
tlon, but he regards himself the child of evil des-
tiny, writes because he IL hungry, takes the pay,
lwhen he eau get ,) and satisfies his appetite Dy
drinking whisky. stream composed OF many ike
himself nows consianlly through every newspaper
oilce. It's individual members no man knows.
They have neither local habitaiiOns nor names. Ma
one Inquiries whence them come, no man cares
where or how they live, or misses them when they
are gone. They are the army OF unknown writers.
They never receive any credit for their writings,
and indeed don't seek any. ADother man OF less
gifted Imagination but much sense clips their ar
ticles out They lie In drawers and in scrap books
After many years they reappear among the "romi-
nlscences" OF some shrewd pirate King OF literature
the real author ~ by this time In some poiors field
II moi quite dead, he does not his article repro
duoed II perchance he sees II, he fails to recognize
In II the enid OF his fancy. II he does recognize
ana claln II, no one believes hn